Cell Mates
by The 1000th Kiss
Summary: Roger gets arrested...for about the third time. Only this time he gets convicted and sentenced to three years in prison. There he meets his soon to be best friend, Tom Collins. Roger/Collins meeting fic.
1. The Fellas in D Block

**It's on my profile so it's going to be written. And it's all in Roger's POV. Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you ****Cell Mates****. *cue animated applause***

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

Ah, handcuffs. The only enemy of mine to be made by man out of metal. Sometimes they're cold, sometimes they're hot, and other times they're just plain annoying. But at this particular moment, they're the only thing keeping the two really big guys sitting on either side of me from wrapping their hands around my neck and squeezing it until I'm limp and lifeless.

So I say, thank God for handcuffs.

After a while a prison guard comes into the room me and the muscle guys were put in and un-cuffs me. He then grabs me by my shirt collar and practically throws me into the room he just came out of.

"Davis," a man sitting at a desk says as he stares at a piece of paper. Before I can figure out if I'm supposed to respond to that, the man continues speaking. "Possession." He looks up at me for a moment and then back at the paper. "Great." Is it just me or does this guy only know how to say one word at a time? "I'll put you in . . ." Holy shit! Four whole words! " . . . cell block D." The guard that brought me in the room chuckles behind me as the other man goes to a closet, takes out some type of uniform, and gives it to me. "This is what you'll wear from now on." He points to in the direction of a bathroom. "Go get dressed."

I hurry into the bathroom and immediately notice that the uniform he gave me is orange. Orange! There is no way in hell I'm gonna wear this! ROGER DAVIS **DOES NOT** LOOK GOOD IN, LET ALONE WEAR, ORANGE!

"Hey, hurry up in there, Davis," the desk guy's voice calls through the door. I quickly take my clothes off and replace them with the ugly orange outfit. My normal clothes are taken away from me as soon as I step out of the bathroom.

"I'll hold onto these," the guard says as he throws my clothes into the closet to be contaminated by all the other ugly jumpsuit things.

"I hope it doesn't bother you that you'll be wearing that for the next three years," the desk guy says. Of course it bothers me! For two reasons: 1) I _hate _the color orange! And 2) That damn guard just stole my clothes and I don't think he's gonna give them back!

"It's not the clothes he should be worried about," the guard says. "He should be worried about all those fellas in D Block. They seem to like blondes." He looks at me "If you get my drift." Okay then. Three words.

What. A. Creep.

A really weird siren sounding noise deafens me. I cover my ears in desperation to not lose my hearing.

"You better get used to it," the creepy guard tells me. "You're gonna hear it three times a day for the next 1,095 days." I _already_ don't like this guy and he just had to make it worse by calculating the exact number of days I'm gonna be in here. Damn creepy, brainy guard.

"What does it mean?" I ask.

"You'll hear it once in the morning for breakfast, once in the afternoon for lunch, and once in the evening, like now, for dinner."

"You're lucky you got here right before dinner," the desk guy adds. "Most of the fellas aren't too happy unless they've had something to eat. Speaking of something to eat, you look pretty hungry yourself. Sampson, why don't you take our newest member of D Block down to the cafeteria?" Sampson? Seriously? His name's Sampson? I hope that's his last name.

"Come with me," Sampson says, dragging me out of the room by my orange collar. As I'm pulled down several halls, I look at the cells. "After dinner, you'll be put in one of these cells with another prisoner, or your cell mate, if you will. And you better pray to God or whoever it is you believe in that you get somebody smaller than you." We stop in front of one of the cells and I look in it. "There's a set of bunk beds and a toilet. The toilets don't flush at night so if you gotta shit, I suggest you hold it." I nod and Sampson starts dragging me again.

We pass through a set of double doors and a sea of orangeness is the first thing I notice.

"Whoa," I say.

"'Whoa' is right," Sampson agrees. He then makes a motion toward a person I'm not focused on. "Now, on a normal day, you'd get a tray, get in line, and get your food. But since today's your first day your food is brought to you." A metal tray is handed to me. I stare down at it and try to make out whatever the hell is on it. It looks like . . . some type of, a vegetable, and a fork. "Go see if you can find yourself a place to sit."

I turn toward Sampson to ask exactly where I'm supposed to sit, but he disappears before I can. I look back at the many orange jumpsuits and start walking slowly. Heads turn and some of the noise in the room dies down. After what seems like forever, I find a place to sit that's right between to two guys that are three feet taller than me.

_This is perfect. Just fucking perfect._

I stare at my tray for a moment before picking up my fork and scooping some of the "meat" onto it. I bring it up to my nose, sniff it, and immediately start gagging.

"Smells like shit, don't it?" one of the guys sitting beside me asks. I nod. "Don't worry. Once you're here for a while, you'll get used to it." The guy holds his hand out. "Name's Bones." I take his hand and shake it. While our hands are on each other's, I notice he's got long hair that's pulled back.

"Um . . . can I ask why your name is Bones?" I ask daringly, taking my hand back. Bones smiles and turns his back toward me.

"You see the thing holdin' my hair back?" he asks as he turns back around. I nod. "I killed a guy and made it outta his wrist and finger bones." My eyes widen as Bones points to the other guy next to me. "That's The Exterminator. We call him Big E for short." He points to a guy next to Big E. "That's Dash."

"Dash?"

"Yeah. Only guy in here to outrun a cop car on foot." I nod and he points the five other people at the table, naming them as A-Bomb, Fuse, Striker, KO, and Dread. I look down at the end of the table and see a black guy he forgot to name.

"What about that guy down there?" I point to him and Bones laughs.

"You really wanna know who he is?" he asks. I nod. "Alright then." He throws a piece of his "vegetable" at the nameless guy and he looks up. "Hey! Tell him your name!" The nameless guy glares at Bones for a moment and then looks down at his tray, causing Bones to laugh again. "His name's Scarecrow."

"Why Scarecrow?" Bones gets up, goes to the end of the table, and puts his hands on the side of Scarecrow's head.

"Cause his head he'd be scratchin' while his thoughts were busy hatchin' if he only had a brain," Bones sings, laughing again, this time joined by the rest of the table.

"The boy's so stupid he can't even talk," Big E says as a guard approaches the table.

"Now, Big E, you know better than to make fun of him like that," he says. "If you're gonna tease him, make sure he can actually understand the insult." The table, minus me, starts laughing again as the guard leaves and Bones sits back down. A guy walks up behind me and sniffs my hair.

"What the hell!?" I yell. The guy's eyes widen and he tugs on Bones' jumpsuit.

"What is it, Dog?" he asks.

"'Dog?'" I repeat.

"Yeah, he can figure people out by smellin' 'em. Now, what is it?"

"Fresh meat." Bones glances at me.

"Wait a minute. You mean, _fresh _meat? As in, he ain't even been ruffed up by the warden?" Dog nods. "Looks like we're gonna have to change all that. Big E, A-Bomb, get him." Big E and A-Bomb do as Bones says. It's then that I notice there are no guards anywhere in the cafeteria.

**"FRESH MEAT!" **Dog shouts. The commotion in the cafeteria stops altogether and every single person stands up almost at the same time. Scarecrow is the only one who's still sitting, but he's looking around.

"Wait a minute!" I cry. "What're you gonna do to me!?"

"Relax, everybody goes through it," A-Bomb says. "Except I don't think anyone's ever had this many people to deal with." Everyone starts closing in on me. SOMEBODY HELP ME! Where's Sampson when you need him? Bones' fist is raised in the air, but it's grabbed before it can make contact with my face.

"What the hell are you doin', Scarecrow?" Bones asks. Scarecrow says nothing and just looks at me. "Oh, you want the first hit?" Scarecrow nods and steps toward me. He makes a fist, takes a deep breath, and throws a punch . . . in the opposite direction of me. "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!?" Bones' nose is bleeding and Scarecrow is just staring at him. "I'LL KILL YOU!" Bones throws a blind punch to try to get Scarecrow back, but he ducks and pulls me to the floor with him, causing Bones to hit a random guy that was behind me.

A fight soon breaks out and Scarecrow crawls under one of th tables. In fear of getting caught in the crossfire, I follow him. Underneath the table, I notice that has a goatee and, despite the fact that he's a big guy, looks timid. Like he wouldn't hurt a fly . . . with the exception of punching Bones in the nose.

**"EVERYBODY DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!" **Sampson's voice demands. Everything stops all of a sudden and everyone dives on the ground. "Just for that little display of mayhem, all of you go back to your cells! Move it!" Scarecrow is pulled from under the table and, ten seconds later, so am I.

"Uh . . . where should _I _go?" I ask. Sampson smiles at me.

"We've got a special place just for you." He grabs me by my collar again and drags me out of the cafeteria. As we approach what cell I'm gonna be put in, I hear people laughing. Before I can turn to see exactly who's laughing, Sampson throws me into a cell. "Have fun with your new friend." I stand up and turn to see Scarecrow sitting on the top bunk, glaring down at me.

"Um . . . hi, Scarecrow," I say, trying to be friendly. His glare turns even fiercer as I hear the laughter again.

"Word to the wise, Houdini," Bones calls from his cell, holding a cloth to his nose. "Scarecrow ain't gonna talk to you so it'd be best if you don't talk to _him_."

"'Houdini?'"

"Yeah. You're the only guy to escape the welcome beating."

"Nice one, Bones," Big E calls from his cell.

"Are they always like this?" I ask Scarecrow. I receive the same glare. "Why don't you answer to your name?" Without warning, Scarecrow jumps off the bunk and grabs me by my collar. "Don't hurt me!"

"Hey, Scarecrow!" Sampson says. "Let him go!" Scarecrow glares at him, lets go of my collar, and climbs back on the top bunk.

"Why would you put me in here with him?" I ask.

"He won't hurt you as long as you leave him alone."

"Houdini don't need instructions on how to deal with Scarecrow," Bones says, throwing the now bloody cloth on the ground. "He can just slip through the cell bars."

"Congratulations, Davis," the desk guy says as he stands next to Sampson. "You've got yourself a nickname."

"I guess I do," I say. "Why does everyone have nicknames anyway?"

"If you have a nickname, it means they like you. So, you'll be less likely to get your ass kicked." I look at Scarecrow and he growls while glaring at the desk guy.

"Alright!" Sampson says. "I _know _you all don't wanna go to bed hungry so I suggest somebody starts talkin'!"

"That depends on what you wanna know," Bones says.

"Who the hell started that fight!? I want a name!"

"Houdini," Big E says.

"What!?" I exclaim. "No I didn't!"

"You got proof?" Sampson asks. I remain silent. "I guess not. Well, Houdini, looks like you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to Unit F."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment," Fuse says. "You can't send him over there."

"Unless somebody tells me he didn't start the fight, he's going."

"_I _told you I didn't start the fight!" I point out.

"I meant someone else." Scarecrow suddenly jumps down from the top bunk. "Do you have something to say?" Scarecrow stares at Sampson for a moment before looking at me.

"I think he's asking if you have proof that I didn't start the fight," I tell him. His eyes narrow.

"I _know _what he's askin'," he snaps.

"Holy shit!" Big E exclaims. "He got Scarecrow to talk!"

"What else can you do, Scarecrow?" Bones asks. Scarecrow is silent again. "Damn. It was nice while it lasted."

"Who started the fight, Scarecrow?" Sampson asks. Scarecrow points to himself. "Fine then. It's off to Unit F for you."

"What the hell are you doin'?" Fuse asks Scarecrow. "You're gonna get killed over there!" All of the cells open at the same time.

"The rest of you go back to the cafeteria," the desk guy says. "And no more fights!" I watch as Sampson and another guard take Scarecrow down the hall and around the corner.

"It was nice knowin' him," I hear Bones say.

"I heard three guards died in Unit F last month," I hear Dread add.

Once we're back in the cafeteria, we all sit in the same places we were in before the fight. Our "food" seems untouched and I can see why. As I push my "vegetable" around with my fork, my mind goes to Scarecrow. What could be happening to him right now? And why'd he take the blame for the fight?

"Hey, Bones?" I say.

"Yeah?" Bones replies.

"What exactly is Unit F?"

"It's like D Block only ten times worse."

"The warden lets guards take prisoners from D Block over there if they need to be punished," Fuse adds.

"'Punished?'" I repeat.

"Yup," Striker says. "Scarecrow might not come back."

"True," Bones agrees. "I'm gonna miss his dumb ass."

"Same here," A-Bomb says.

"Who would've thought we'd hear his first and last words in the same day?" Big E asks rhetorically.

As we all go back to our cells after dinner, I finally figure out that the desk guy is the warden.

"How was your first dinner here, Davis?" he asks.

"It was . . . different," I reply. "Um . . . where's Scarecrow?" The warden smiles at me.

"You afraid to sleep by yourself?"

"No. It's just-"

"Do yourself a favor and don't worry about him, alright?" the warden interrupts as the cells shut automatically.

"But I heard some of the other guys say that three guards died over in Unit F."

"Don't worry about it."

"What if something happens to him? Do you really want another death on your hands?"

"For the third and final time, don't wo-"

"WARDEN HARRIS!" a guard yells, running toward my cell where Warden Harris, as he calls him, is standing.

"What is it?" Warden Harris asks. The guard whispers something to him and his eyes widen. "Shit."

"What's goin' on, Warden?" Bones asks.

"Nothing. Everything's under control." He speaks in a softer tone to the guard. "Get the lights turned out and round up every single prison guard in D Block. You got that?" The guard nods and runs off.

"What happened?" I ask Warden Harris. He stares at me for a long time before the lights go out.

"Don't worry about it, Davis," he tells me as he walks off into the dark.

**And that's the first chapter! *cue more animated applause* Review please!**


	2. Collins, not Scarecrow

**The end of the last chapter was somewhat of a cliffhanger. Now it's time for the next one so nobody has a heart attack on me. ;)**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

The deafening siren combined with the sound of the cells opening causes me to wake up and fall off the _unbelievingly comfortable _bottom bunk. I groan and pick myself up off the floor.

"Damn," Bones says, standing in front of my cell chuckling. "It's no secret you're new."

"What time is it?" I ask.

"About . . . 4:30."

"In the morning!?"

"Yup. That insanely loud alarm clock goes off at 4:30 a.m., 12:00 p.m., and 7:30 p.m."

"Great." I stretch and notice that Scarecrow's bunk is empty. "Did Scarecrow leave while I was on the floor?"

"I don't think he ever came back from Unit F." He never came back? Oh no. He could be dead! Wait a minute. Why the hell should I care? He was gonna strangle me last night! I'm glad he didn't come back! Hmm . . . for some reason I feel bad for being happy he might be dead.

I walk with Bones to the cafeteria, all the while looking for Sampson or Warden Harris. I _need _to know what's happening or what already happened to Scarecrow. It's driving me insane!

"Hey, Bones?" I say.

"You're gonna ask another question about Scarecrow, aren't you?" Bones replies.

"Is it _that _obvious?"

"Yeah. Why do you even care about him? He ain't that important and he was probably gonna kill you last night."

"Well, maybe he just has anger issues."

"Or maybe he wanted to kick your ass cause you're smaller than him." That could be true, but I'm trying to give him the benefit of the doubt here. Then again . . .

"That couldn't be right."

"How do you know?"

"If that was true, he would've hit me in the cafeteria last night instead of you."

"Now that you mention that, I hope that little fucker _is _still alive so I can kill him for givin' me a bloody nose."

Breakfast consists of round, pancake looking things that are as hard as hockey pucks and a small bowl of an _extremely _lumpy oatmeal substance. How appetizing. As I sit in the same spot that I sat in last night next to Bones, I keep glancing down at the other end of the table, half expecting Scarecrow to be sitting there, staring at his breakfast.

"Lookin' for somebody?" Big E asks me. I suddenly snap back to reality.

"No," I say quickly just as I notice Warden Harris walk into the cafeteria. "Uh . . . I'll be right back." I stand up and walk as fast as I can without running toward Warden Harris.

"I'm surprised you're even up," he says to me. "Most newcomers seem to sleep through the siren."

"Who the hell can sleep through _that_?" I ask.

"Lots of people actually. How are you enjoying your breakfast?"

"The same as I enjoyed my dinner." Warden Harris chuckles.

"So, what made you want to talk to me?"

"I'm just gonna get right to the point. I _really _need to know if Scarecrow's okay."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I guess I feel kinda bad for him. I mean, he seems to get picked on all the time."

"What part of 'don't worry about it' didn't you get?"

"The 'don't' part. I want answers and I want 'em _now_!" Warden Harris sighs and pulls me out of the cafeteria. "Well? Are you gonna answer my questions?" I fold my arms across my chest.

"Sampson and Collins, who you know as Scarecrow, were attacked in Unit F last night. Hamilton, the other guard that helped Sampson escort Collins over to Unit F, was killed." I stare at him with widened eyes. "Does that answer all of your questions?"

"Where are Sampson and Scarecrow?" I ask, still in shock.

"They've both been taken to the hospital."

"Are they gonna be okay?"

"Collins is able to come back here today, but Sampson has been put on life support."

"Can I come when you bring Scarecrow back?" Judging by the look on Warden Harris' face, I don't think I should've asked that.

"I was actually going to head out right now," he says. "Are you sure you want to skip breakfast?" He smiles.

"If I must, I must," I reply.

**

* * *

**

Being in the hospital makes me wish I'd been taken over to Unit F. Hell, walking in the door makes me wish I could've traded places with Scarecrow. How'd they get this place so neat? They probably have millions of maids and little robots to get in those hard-to-reach places. After Warden Harris and I have been sitting in the glorified waiting room for about an hour, a doctor comes over to us.

As the doctor talks with the warden, I remain sitting and stare at the ground. I only stare at it for four seconds because it's so bright it actually hurts my eyes. Scratch that, this isn't clean . . . it's insanity! Seriously, there's a difference between "wow, this is clean" and "these people must polish the floors _and_ the walls all day."

"Davis," Warden Harris says, "you wanted to see him, so get your ass over here." I stand up and walk behind him as he follows the doctor. We pass a window as we walk and I cover my eyes to shield them from the painful rays of sunlight.

"Here we are," the doctor says. Warden Harris suddenly throws me into the room and I fall, causing the sleeping Scarecrow to wake up. I stand up and turn around just as Warden Harris shuts the door before I can ask him what the hell he did that for. I turn back toward Scarecrow, who's glaring at me.

"Hi," I say with as much confidence as I can. He continues to glare at me and I study the bandage on his forehead, the splint on his wrist, the hospital gown he's wearing, and his jumpsuit that is now folded and sitting on a chair next to the bed. "Um . . . I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here." He rolls his eyes, closes them, and then lies back down. "Well, Scarecrow, I'll tell you anyway." His eyes snap open and his glare returns. "I asked the warden if I could come visit you cause I've been kinda worried about you." His glare softens and he sits up slowly. "So, how're you feeling?"

"Why do you care?" he asks.

"I don't know actually. I guess it's cause I feel bad for you since you're always getting picked on. I thought you could use some company."

"You don't even know me."

"I'd like to. I mean, if we're gonna be stuck together for the next three years, we might as well be friends, right?" I laugh nervously and Scarecrow just stares at me. "Acquaintances?"

"Acquaintances first, then _maybe _friends. _Maybe_."

"Well, pleased to make your acquaintance . . . acquaintance." I laugh again and Scarecrow makes a face.

"That was a terrible joke. Don't ever say it again."

"Sorry, Scarecrow."

"That's another thing. If we're gonna be acquaintances, you gotta stop callin' me Scarecrow."

"But that's all I know you by."

"I don't care. That ain't my name."

"Everyone else-"

"I don't give a damn about everyone else!" Wow. I didn't think he could be that loud. "Those assholes dubbed me Scarecrow just cause I don't talk to 'em. They think I don't talk cause I don't have a brain, but it's actually because every last prisoner I've ever met is too incompetent to carry on a conversation with."

"Then why do you talk to _me_?"

"I don't fucking know! Jesus Christ! Do you _always _ask this many questions!?"

"It was just a question. There's no need to snap." We're silent for a moment. "So, what should I call you?"

"Collins."

"That's what the warden calls you."

"And?"

"It's a little strange that you go by, and I'm guessing here, your last name."

"Well, it grows on you when you've been in that place as long as I have."

"How long is that?"

"Six years." I blink a few times and clean out my ear with my finger.

"How many years?"

"Six years. I've got three more before I'm a free man."

"What the hell did you do to get nine years?" He stares at me for a moment as if he's silently debating whether he trusts me or not.

"Enough talkin' about me. Let's talk about you." Hey! He just tried to dodge my question!

"Can't you just answer one more question?"

"Fine, but not that one."

"Could you answer a part of it?"

"I'm in prison for somethin' that was misinterpreted as something else, okay? That's all I'm sayin' on that subject."

"Fair enough." What I really mean by that is, "I'll get you to spill it later." I really don't know how I'm gonna do that, but I'll think of a way. "Why are you in prison if it was a misinterpretation? Is the warden trying to scare you straight or something?" Scarecr . . . Collins laughs. "What's so funny?"

"It's gonna take much more than Unit F to scare _me _straight." He laughs again, but stops when he sees the puzzled look on my face. "We're not on the same page, are we?"

"Probably not."

"When you asked me if the warden is tryin' to scare me straight, what'd you mean?"

"I meant clean up your behavior. What'd you think I meant?" Reality suddenly slaps me in the face. "Collins, are you gay?"

"Now what kind of acquaintance would ask somethin' like that?"

"Are you?" Collins sighs.

"Yeah." His glare comes back. "You got a problem with it?" He looks like he's about to jump out of the bed and kill me.

"No." I involuntarily put my hand out as if I'm stopping him from coming any further. "I don't have a problem at all. I was just asking." Warden Harris suddenly comes into the room.

"You're lucky Sampson likes you, Collins," he says, picking Collins' folded jumpsuit up off of the chair next to the bed. "Otherwise, it'd be _you _on life support instead of him." He throws the jumpsuit at Collins. "Get up." Collins stares at him with a blank expression on his face. "I know you don't talk, but I know you understand English. Get the hell up!" Warden Harris pushes Collins out of the bed and he lands on his already hurt wrist. "Next time I tell you to get up you'll do it faster, won't you!?" Collins says nothing as a small tear runs down his cheek. "What the hell are you crying for!?" Warden Harris starts to kick Collins, but I stand in front of his foot and he stops. "Get out of the way, Davis!"

"You can't take Sampson being on life support out on him," I say.

"I can do whatever the hell I feel like!"

"Actually you can't. You may be an officer of the law, but you still have to follow the law." Warden Harris glares at me and goes to the door.

"Get dressed, Collins." He slams the door and I help Collins off the floor.

"Is your wrist okay?" I ask. Collins nods. "Why didn't you stick up for yourself? You're a big guy. You could've taken him. You know he has no right to hurt you because another officer is on life support." Collins says nothing and I sigh. "I'll help you change."

**That's chapter two! Hope you liked it! Review please!**


	3. Back to the Jailhouse

**Time for the next chapter! Yippee! I hope everyone's enjoying this so far. If you are, then I'm doing a good job. :) If you're not . . . :(. **

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

The ride back to the jailhouse is one big awkward silence. Warden Harris doesn't say anything because he's still upset about Sampson being on life support, Collins doesn't say anything because he doesn't want the warden to flip out on him again, and I don't say anything in fear of saying the wrong thing. I decide to just stare at my hands.

"Collins?" Warden Harris says suddenly. I look over at Collins, whose left wrist has been handcuffed to the door handle. "I'm sorry for . . . blowing up back at the hospital. That was out of line."

_You're damn right it was!_

"Did you hear that, Collins?" I ask. Collins nods. "Do you forgive him?" Collins is still and silent. "Well, do you?" Not even a head nod.

"There's no use trying to make him forgive me, Davis. He's hated me since the first day we met." I see Collins shiver out of the corner of my eye. "I just felt like I should apologize." The warden chuckles for a moment. "I'm actually amazed that he knows what the word apologize means. His nickname has to be Scarecrow for a reason, right?"

_Oh shit . . . he called him Scarecrow._

I glance at Collins and notice that his glare is back, but this time it's fiercer than ever.

"I don't think you should call him that anymore," I tell Warden Harris. He looks at me in the rearview mirror.

"What's _he _going to do about it?" he asks, grinning. We both hear a low growl come from Collins as the police cruiser stops in front of our destination. Warden Harris then turns and looks at Collins. "Now that I think about it, do you even know what a scarecrow is?" Collins starts shaking and his glare reminds me of the saying, "If looks could kill."

_Here it comes . . ._

"I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!" Collins yells. He somehow breaks the handcuff that's on his good wrist (taking the door handle off) and lunges at Warden Harris, but I grab his arms and restrain him the best I can. "LET ME AT HIM! I'LL KILL HIM!"

"Collins, calm down!" I plead.

"GET OFF ME, ROGER!"

"Go ahead and let him go, Davis," Warden Harris says, smirking. "I think I'll enjoy punishing him for trying to harm me."

"I'M GONNA DO MORE THAN HARM YOU!" Collins yells.

"Collins, _please_ calm down!" I beg.

"Hell no! He wants me to hurt him, so I'm _gonna _hurt him!"

"That's exactly what he wants you to do! Don't let him overpower you! Just calm down!" Collins stops trying to get to Warden Harris, but his glare remains. "That's it. Calm down and take deep breaths." Collins inhales and exhales deeply. In time, I manage to calm Collins down a little. Not much, but just enough to make sure he won't try to kill the warden and get another nine years.

"Davis, I'm impressed," Warden Harris says. "When he loses his temper I usually have to put him in the Hot Box, but you . . . how did you even do that?"

_What the hell is a Hot Box?_

"He's a human so I treat him like one," I explain. "He may not talk to most people, but it's only because of the way they treat him. If you're nicer to him, I'm sure he won't threaten or try to attack anyone. He's really not a bad guy." I glance at Collins and I swear I see him start to smile.

* * *

"Holy shit!" Bones exclaims from his cell as Warden Harris escorts Collins and I to our cell. "Scarecrow's alive!"

"How's that even possible?" Fuse asks rhetorically. Warden Harris manually unlocks our cell and Collins and I step inside it. Everyone watches as our cell is re-locked and the warden leaves the hallway.

"What was it like over there, Scarecrow?" A-Bomb asks from his cell. Collins rolls his eyes and sits down on my bunk.

"He doesn't wanna talk about it," I answer.

"Why not?" Bones asks. "Nobody goes over there and comes back without a story to tell."

"He just doesn't wanna talk about it."

"How do you know?"

"I just do."

"He been talkin' to you or somethin'?" Big E asks, chuckling.

"Actually . . . yeah," I say.

"Bullshit!" Bones exclaims. "Scarecrow don't talk to nobody. Especially new prisoners."

"Well, he talks to me." Collins smiles and then bursts into laughter. I stare at him for a moment.

"What's he laughin' at?" Fuse asks.

"I don't know," I say. "Collins, what're you laughing for?" Collins continues to laugh. Before I can ask him another question, Warden Harris walks back down the hallway. Collins' laughter suddenly stops and he glares after the warden. "Can you tell me what you were laughing at now?" His smile comes back.

"You're new," he says, his smile widening.

"I know that. Why's it so funny?"

"It's funny cause you don't know what kind of work you gotta do." My eyes widen and he chuckles.

"'Work?' What work?"

"Probably yard work."

"'Yard work?'" Am I going to be planting flowers or something? Before I can add to my question list, three cells, including Collins' and mine, open. Bones, Fuse, Big-E, Striker, Collins, and I all slowly step out of our cells as Warden Harris comes back into the hallway, carrying a sack.

"Davis, Collins, Jenkins, Brown, Baker, and Watson," he says, as he pulls six pick axes from the sack and puts them on the floor. "You're all on yard work." I stare at the axes for a moment. "Get an ax and follow me."

Collins is the first one to move. He picks up an ax (with his good hand) and follows closely behind Warden Harris.

_How's he supposed to do anything with one hand?_

I then pick up an ax and practically run to catch up with them. Not because I'm looking forward to whatever we're going to be doing, but because Collins is about one foot away from the warden, who he loathes entirely, with an ax. We stop walking for a moment and Warden Harris turns around to see if all six people he told to follow him were doing so.

"You always have to be in the front when it's time for you to do yard work, don't you Collins?" he asks, smiling. "Well, I guess since you're only dumb muscle, it's the perfect thing for you to do. _And_, as a bonus, it's the simplest job in the world. I mean, I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Everyone else, except me, starts laughing. I look at Collins' face, expecting to see his glare. His glare isn't there, though. He actually looks like he's about to cry.

"Aw, he's gonna cry now," Bones teases, causing everyone to laugh harder.

"I didn't even know scarecrow's had tear ducts," Warden Harris says.

"Why don't you guys just leave him alone?" I ask, irritated.

"Why the hell do you care so much?" Fuse asks.

"I just do. He may not talk, but he still has feelings."

"Alright, no more making fun of the dumb ass prisoner," Warden Harris says. "He might cry and Davis wouldn't like that." I roll my eyes and we walk out to some type of concrete place where there are giant rocks everywhere. "Get to work."

_Something tells me we're not gonna be planting flowers . . ._

**END! I'm auditioning for Joanne in RENT! I'M EXCITED!**

**Review please.**


	4. The Wrath of Bones

**Alright good people! It's updating time! That's all I'm saying.**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

"Collins?" I whisper after Warden Harris leaves the concreted area. Collins turns toward me slowly.

"Is _that _why he talks to you?" Bones asks. "Cause you call him 'Collins?'"

"That's what he wants to be called."

"That's a dumb name."

"It's _my _dumb name," Collins mutters.

"If you ask me, 'Scarecrow' is ten times better than 'Collins,'" Fuse says.

"Maybe even twenty," Bones adds. I look over at Collins to see him . . . applauding? Why the hell would he applaud someone who basically just said changing his name to Scarecrow would be an improvement on it?

"Nice one," he comments. "You come up with that all by yourself, or did your faithful sidekicks help you out?" Bones' eyes narrow.

"What'd you just say to me?" he asks.

"Collins, what're you doing?" I ask.

"I think it's safe if I bet on your sidekicks. I mean, you're _always _lost in thought," Collins continues as Bones tightens his grip on his ax. "Then again, thought to you _is _anunfamiliar territory."

"Are you insultin' me?" Bones asks.

_Oh great. He just gave him more ammo. _

"Well, look at that. The only genius in the world with an IQ of 60 knows an insult when he hears one."

"Keep it up and see if you live through this day."

"I'm as afraid of you as I am a monkey with a banana."

"You're callin' me stupid, aren't you?"

"No. Calling you stupid would be an insult to people who actually _are _stupid." Bones comes closer to Collins, his grip on his ax handle tighter than ever. "Wait . . . hasn't it always been your dream to become stupid?'"

"If I were you, I'd apologize before he gets pissed," Fuse tells Collins.

"I think you should do what he says, Collins," I agree. Collins smiles at me and chuckles slightly.

"Why would I do that?" he asks. "He's always wanted me to talk to him so I'm makin' his wish come true." Bones' arm moves a little and I fear he's about to plunge his ax right into Collins' skull.

"Apologize," he demands, glaring at Collins.

"I don't think so."

"Apologize _now_." Collins pretends to ponder over something for a moment.

"Tell you what, we can make a deal. If you apologize for the six years of misery you put me through, I'll apologize for the six insults I just made to you. How 'bout that?"

"How 'bout I slice your head open and watch you bleed to death?" This is _not _happening. It can't be. I came to this place to pay my debt to society, not to watch to people fight to the death with axes!

"Maybe you guys could make some sort of truce or something," I suggest. Collins and Bones glare at each other.

"Hell no," Bones says. "I'm gonna give this son-of-a-bitch _exactly _what's comin' to him."

"I'm not afraid of you," Collins tells him calmly.

"And _I'm _not afraid of _you_. I don't even know the mean of the word 'fear.'"

"Youdon't know the meaning of _most words_." Collins smiles sadistically at Bones as he raises his ax high above his head.

"THAT TEARS IT!"

**"****NO!" **I cry. I push Collins out of the way and we both fall to the ground just as Bones brings his ax down with an unbelievable amount of strength. It just misses my ankle and gets stuck into the ground. I stare at Bones while he struggles to retrieve his ax. Collins laughs as we get up off of the ground. "Are you out of your fucking mind!?"

"What's _your _problem?" Collins asks, his laughter dying down.

"Why would you insult him like that!? You _knew _what was gonna happen! We all have axes for Christ's sake!"

"Yeah, I knew what was gonna happen, but it was still goddamn hilarious to watch his reaction." Collins laughs again and I stare at him in disbelief. He suddenly stops laughing and his eyes widen.

"What?" I say. I'm suddenly pushed to the ground and can do nothing but watch as Bones' fist slams into Collins' head, right where the bandage is, causing him to fall to the ground. "Collins!" I pick myself up off the ground, rush over to my acquaintance, and kneel beside him. "Collins, are you okay?" Someone picks me up by my collar and literally throws me across the concrete lot. I land on my back and just lie there.

_Do I dare look to see what's happening?_

I sit up slowly and see Bones wailing on Collins, punching him repeatedly in his head in the same spot. And . . . _nobody's stopping him!? _Not even as he picks Collins up by his shoulders and head butts him!?

_What the hell!? _

Anger flows through me as I jump up, run toward Bones, jump on his back, and wrap my arms around his neck. Collins falls to the ground, unconscious, as Bones tries to pry my arms from around his neck so he can breathe.

"What the hell is going on out here!?" Warden Harris' voice booms. That distracts me long enough for Bones to fling me off his back and send me flying right in front of the warden. I look up at him. "Davis, get off the ground!" I quickly stand up and brush myself off as Warden Harris looks at Collins. "Who felt like they needed to kill Collins?"

"He's not dead," I say.

"Excuse me?" Warden Harris' eyes look like they could burn a hole through my head.

"He's not dead."

"Well, do you want to explain why he's sprawled out on the concrete?" I glance at Bones and his death glare sends a chill up my spine.

"He got hit in the head . . . a lot," I tell the warden.

"By who?"

"I . . . I don't know. I wasn't paying attention."

"You paid enough attention to see that he got hit in the head a lot." I stare at the ground. "Does _anyone _know who knocked Collins out?" Everyone is silent and I glance at Bones, who glares at me. "Alright then. Since none of you have an answer, I'm just going to have to put you all in the Hot Box for a week and turn it up to the maximum temperature."

"Bones did it," Fuse says suddenly.

"What the hell!?" Bones responds. "Why would you do that!?"

"I'm not spending a whole week in the Hot Box because of your hot-tempered ass!"

"I knew I'd get an answer somehow," Warden Harris says. "Well, Watson, you knocked him out so you get to carry him to the Hospital Wing and then it's the Hot Box for you. Three days."

_There's a hospital here? And what the hell is this Hot Box I keep hearing about?_

Bones reluctantly walks over to Collins, picks him up, and walks back into the jailhouse.

"Davis," Warden Harris says. "I think it'd be better for you to be on bathroom duty."

"'Bathroom duty?'" I repeat.

"Yeah. It means it's your job to clean all the toilets in D Block."

"Are you serious? Why do I have to-"

"Don't question my authority, Davis," Warden Harris interrupts. "Now move it." I sigh and walk ahead of him into the jailhouse.

_Maybe I shouldn't have tried to ask what yard work was._

**Fin! Mark and April shall be in the next chapter! :)**

**Review please.**


	5. A Lot Happens During Visiting Hours

**Okay, this little author's note thing is to tell you that after the next chapter (which will be coming tomorrow) you will all finally find out why Collins is in prison. CeliaLauna, I hope you got that. Your wondering will stop soon.**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

I. Hate. Toilets. What kind of evil mastermind came up with these things? They had to know that they were going to get dirty and someone was going to have to clean them. Why oh why did that someone have to be _me?_

_Stupid Bones and his temper got me moved to bathroom duty._

"I'm surprised you haven't asked to see Collins yet," I hear Warden Harris' voice say behind me. I stand up, still holding the sponge I'm using to scrub the toilets, and turn toward him.

"If there's a hospital here, how come-" I start.

"The hospital here doesn't have the correct materials to do stitches," Warden Harris interrupts. I stop breathing, my eyes widen, and I drop the sponge. "What's the matter with you?"

"Collins had to get stitches?" I ask, breathing again, but still in shock.

"Yes he did. Seven in his forehead and ten in the back of his head. Seventeen all together."

"What the hell did they do to him over in Unit F?"

"That's where you come in."

"Me?"

"You're the only one he talks to. And he just plain hates _me_. You're the best bet that we'll find out what went on."

"No one knows what happened? At all?" Warden Harris shakes his head. "Why do I have to try to get it out of him? Why can't someone else tell you?"

"Because there are only three people who would possibly say anything bad about the prisoners in Unit F. One of them is dead, one is on life support and can't talk, and the other is in this building. Davis, I need your help."

"Why should I help you? You don't help Collins."

"What are you talking about? I'm asking you to do this so I _can _help Collins."

"You don't help him any other time."

"I've helped him before." I cross my arms and stare at the obviously lying warden. "What?"

"When he's getting harassed by _every single prisoner _in D Block, do you help him?"

"Well-"

"No! You don't! You laugh about it and join right in!"

"Okay, I see your point." I roll my eyes and go back to scrubbing the toilet in Bones and Fuse's cell. "Don't get the information for me. Do it for Collins." I ignore him and continue scrubbing the awful smelling toilet. "If you talk to him, you don't have to clean toilets anymore." I stand back up. "Are you considering it?"

"If I do this, you have to be nicer to him," I say.

"Done."

"I mean, all the time. Not just when I'm around."

"You got it."

"And if he needs help, you help him. No questions asked." Warden Harris is silent. "It's either that or I don't do it." He runs a hand over his face and sighs.

"Fine," he agrees.

**

* * *

**

"I don't wanna talk about it," Collins tells me as soon as I bring up the subject of Unit F. He sits up in the small bed he's lying in and I study the bruises on his face.

"I'm just curious," I say. "I mean, what goes on over there? How violent is it that people keep getting killed over there?"

"Did the warden put you up to this?" I look at the floor. "Did he?"

"Yeah." My voice is small.

"I should've known. You wouldn't try to get me to talk about something if I didn't want to. Except the whole 'why are you in here' thing."

"Now that you bring that up-"

"I don't wanna talk about that either," Collins interrupts.

"Oh come on!" I say. "You can't expect me to be your cell mate and acquaintance for three years and not ask about it."

"You can ask about it, but you won't get anything out of me."

"Is there _anything _I'm allowed to know about you?"

"I don't sleep at night."

"You're kidding right?"

"No."

"What do you do at night then?"

"I watch other people sleep. It's fascinating." Before I can say anything more, the siren that caused me to fall out of my bunk this morning goes off.

"What does that one mean?" I ask.

"Visiting and recreation hours," Collins says somewhat sadly. Warden Harris suddenly enters the room carrying a small medical bag. "Your little plan failed."

"Then it's a good thing I came in here just to change your bandage and not check on my plan," Warden Harris replies as he reaches for the bandage on Collins' head. "May I?" Collins shrugs and Warden Harris slowly pulls the bandage off of his forehead, which is red and looks swollen.

"Holy shit!" I exclaim.

"You've never seen stitches before, have you Davis?" Warden Harris asks, throwing the old bandage into a trash can and taking a new one out of the medical bag along with some type of liquid and a cotton ball. I shake my head. "Didn't think so." Warden Harris pours some of the liquid on the cotton ball, dabs the part of Collins' forehead the stitches are in, and then puts the bandage over them. "How are you feeling, Collins?"

"Why'd you ask me that?" Collins asks. "You _never _care about how I feel."

"I told him he had to be nice to you if I tried to get the truth out you," I tell him.

"So you're only being nice to me because he told you to?" Collins asks the warden.

"That and I actually read your file all the way through for the first time," Warden Harris

"All of it?"

"Every last word."

"So . . . you know . . .?" Warden Harris nods and puts a hand on Collins' shoulder.

"I finally get why you've been so quiet," he says. I look from Collins' face to the warden's face. They look like they're communicating telepathically.

"Why _were _you so quiet?" I ask. Collins looks up at me.

"He was-" Warden Harris starts.

"I have trust issues," Collins interrupts. Warden Harris gives him a look as he slowly takes his hand off of his shoulder. A prison guard enters the room, carrying a clipboard.

"Davis, Collins, you have visitors," he says. "Come with me."

"Collins, will be there in a moment," Warden Harris tells the guard. "Davis, go ahead." I nod and follow the guard to a large room with tables everywhere. There are prisoners and their visitors sitting at the tables, talking, laughing, and arguing. The guard points me in the direction of a table and leaves the room as I sit down.

"You got your first visitors in prison," I hear Fuse's voice say. "How nice." There's a little hatred in his voice. I turn around in my chair to face him.

"I just cleaned your toilet," I tell him. "I think I deserve a little respect." I turn back around without waiting for a reply just as the guard returns with . . . Mark and April! Holy shit!

"Here are your visitors," the guard says. I give April a small kiss. "Hey, no touching!" I roll my eyes as my visitors and I sit down.

"They sure are strict here," April says.

"You have no idea," I reply.

"So, how's everything going?" Mark asks.

"Well, I met some people, almost got my ass kicked, made an acquaintance, made enemies with my acquaintance's enemies, and now one of those enemies probably wants to kill me. So . . . not as bad as I thought things would go."

"Someone wants to kill you?" April asks.

"Sort of."

"That's terrible."

"I'm sure I'll live." April smiles and we kiss again.

"I said no touching!" the guard says.

"Okay, okay," I tell him. I turn to Mark. "So, why didn't Maureen come to visit?"

"She's still mad at you for not letting her play your guitar," Mark replies.

"And you left her at the loft _where my guitar is_?"

"Relax, babe," April tells me. "I put your guitar in the case and put a combination lock on it."

"I love you," I say, smiling. I'd kiss her again, but that guard is getting annoying.

"Whoa!" Mark exclaims, pointing behind me. "What happened to that guy?" I turn and to see Collins walking into the room.

"Unit F happened to him," I say.

"What's Unit F?"

"A place that no one wants to go. People die over there." Mark and April gasp at the same time. "Hey, Collins! Come over here!" Collins looks at me and shakes his head. I turn back to Mark and April. "Hang on." I stand up and walk over to Collins. "Come with me. I want you to meet some people."

"No," Collins says.

"Why not? They're really nice."

"I told you I have trust issues."

"They're trustworthy." Collins shakes his head. "Come on. They'll like you. And you'll have two more acquaintances." Collins smiles. "I see that smile." Collins looks past me and his smile fades. "What?" I turn around and see a man the same size as Collins walking toward us.

"Guard," Collins says. The guard who yelled at me for kissing my girlfriend looks at Collins.

"What's the problem?" he asks. Collins simply points at the man.

"You can't kick me out of here," the man tells Collins, pushing me out of the way. "Victims have the right to come here and say why their attacker shouldn't get out of jail."

"You brought it on yourself," Collins says. He looks scared of this guy.

"If you would've been smart and just did what they said-" Collins suddenly grabs the man by his shoulders and slams him against a wall, causing everything to stop in the visiting room.

"You know damn well if you were me, you wouldn't have 'just did what they said!'" Collins yells. "You ruined my fucking life because of something I didn't even fucking do!"

"You can deny it all you want," the man says. "You're still in here."

"_You're _the one who should be in here!" The guard pries Collins hands off of his unwanted visitor. "Get him out of here." The guard motions for the man to follow him and they leave the room. Everyone stares at Collins as he brings his good hand up to his face.

"Collins, what was that about?" I ask, removing his hand from his face. Tears are pouring out of his eyes. "Are you alright?" He pushes me away from him and leaves the room. I then go back to my visiting table and sit down as everyone starts talking again.

"What just happened?" April asks.

"I have no idea, but I think I should go check on him," I say.

"Okay," Mark replies. "We'll see you tomorrow. And I'll convince Maureen to come with us."

"Good luck with that." We stand up and Mark leaves the room.

"See you tomorrow," April tells me. We kiss again and she leaves the room as well.

"Hey!" the guard who loves to yell exclaims.

"I know, I know," I respond. "No touching." I leave the visiting room and walk back to my cell, where Collins is lying on his bunk. "Collins?"

"Don't ask," Collins says.

"But-"

"Leave me alone, Roger."

"I just wanna-"

"LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" I jump back as Collins turns his back towards me.

"I wouldn't mess with him, Davis," I hear Warden Harris say. I turn around to face him. "Poor guy's been through hell and back."

"That's not news to me," I reply. "I've seen the way he's treated."

"What makes you think I was talking about him being in prison?"

"What _are _you talking about then?" Warden Harris ignores my question, walks past me, and puts his hand on Collins' back.

"I know you don't belong here," he tells Collins quietly. Not even five seconds later, Collins sits up and climbs down from his bunk. He and the warden stare at each other for a moment as a few tears run down his face. Warden Harris pulls him into a hug and he starts to cry again. "Shh . . . everything will be okay." I can do nothing but stare.

_What the hell happened to him?_

**That was certainly sadder than I expected it to be. At least the warden has a nicer side. *sigh* **

**Review please.**


	6. The Truth

**The last chapter had a sad ending. This one won't be too happy either. :(**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

I stare at Collins, who's sitting in a chair in a corner reading some type of book, while playing checkers with Dread and think about what happened twenty minutes ago. I never thought I'd see Warden Harris comforting Collins, but I guess I thought wrong. He stayed with him until his tears were gone, leaving me with even more questions than before. What happened to Collins to make him cry? What did the guy that visited him today have to do with it? Why can't he trust me enough to tell me the truth?

"Hey, Houdini," Dread says, snapping me back to reality. "It's your move."

"Sorry," I reply, moving one of the red pieces on the board.

"That move is gonna get you killed," the cold voice of a person behind me responds to my move. I turn slowly and see Bones towering over me. My eyes widen and I scream on the inside.

"I thought you were in the Hot Box thing," I say, fearing for my life.

"I'm out for good behavior." Bones cracks his knuckles. "Now, I'm gonna be bad and beat you like a drum." Collins suddenly appears beside him.

"What's goin' on over here, Roger?" he asks me.

"He's gonna kill me," I whisper. Collins stands in front of me and glares at Bones, who returns the glare, just as Warden Harris walks in for the fifth time to make sure no fights have broken out.

"Watson, don't make me put you back in the Hot Box!" Warden Harris booms. Bones glares at Collins and then at me.

"You better pray I _never _catch you alone," he warns me before leaving the room with Fuse right behind him. Collins turns toward me.

"Why didn't he kill me?" I ask him. "Wait . . . why didn't he kill _you_?"

"The warden let him out of the Hot Box on the condition that he doesn't lay a finger on me," Collins answers.

"What _is _a Hot Box?"

"It's actually like a sauna, only _much _hotter. When you're put in there you have nothing but a bucket of water and you can choose to drink the whole thing in one gulp, or try to save it. Nobody can ever save it. It gets too damn hot in there."

"Why are people put in there?"

"Mostly the people who are violent go in there for trying to kill fellow prisoners or something like that." I nod as I follow Collins back to his corner while picturing what the Hot Box could possibly look like.

_One question answered._

"Have _you _ever been in the Hot Box?" I ask as Collins and I sit down.

"Three times," Collins replies. "I didn't complain though." He picks up his book and opens it to the page he was on. He then looks back at me. "You know, I've never had a conversation with anyone like you before."

"Is that a bad thing?" Collins smiles and chuckles.

"No. It's a good thing. It's a very good thing," he replies.

"That's good then," I agree. "So . . . what're you reading?"

"Dictionary."

"Is that the name of the book or are you literally reading the dictionary?"

"I'm literally reading the dictionary." Collins holds up the book and shows me that the words _The English Dictionary_ are printed on the cover.

"Why would you wanna read the dictionary?" I ask.

"I've read it six times before," Collins replies.

"Why?"

"It's just somethin' to do." Collins goes back to reading the dictionary. I watch him spend about two minutes on two pages as my mind goes back to Warden Harris comforting him. I _need _to know what happened. I want to help him, but I can't do that unless he tells me the truth. I could always go ask Warden Harris what happened. He seemed ready to tell me what he read in Collins' file.

_No. I have to hear it from Collins. It's __his__ life._

"Hey, Collins?" I say, unsure of how to continue. Collins looks up from reading. "Um . . . I . . . I have a question, but I'm not really sure how-"

"If you're gonna ask me why I'm in here again, you better think of another question," Collins interrupts.

"It's not that. I wanted to ask you . . ." I take a deep breath. "Okay . . . why were you crying earlier?" Collins drops the book, but doesn't move. "Did that guy that visited you have something to do with-"

"Roger, I don't wanna talk about this," Collins interrupts again.

"But I wanna help you," I tell him.

"You can't." Collins voice is just above a whisper.

"I can try if you just tell me the truth. What happened?"

"Roger, you can't help me unless you can go back in time and stop those . . . bitches from . . ." He breaks off and I'm afraid he might cry again. He stands up and starts to walk out of the room. I follow him and wait for him to start talking again. We end up walking all the way outside where some of the prisoners from D Block are playing basketball and then sitting on a set of bleachers. "The only two people that actually know and believe what happened to me are Warden Harris and my lawyer." Collins' attention is on his hands. "I want you to be the third, Roger."

"Are you sure?" I ask. "If you don't wanna tell me, you don't have to." I'm not going to try to push him to tell me the truth if it hurts him this bad. That's just plain mean.

"I want you to know. You've been stickin' up for me ever since you got here. I think I owe you for that." Collins looks up at me. "My visitor _did _have something to with why I'm in here. He's actually the entire reason."

"What'd he do?"

"Well, I have . . . had a boyfriend before I was put in here."

"'Had?'"

"He's undoubtedly moved on by now." I give an understanding nod. "We were in love. We were a normal couple and we were in love."

"What was his name?"

"Jake Turner." Collins sighs as he thinks about his old boyfriend. "Anyway, after about eight months of dating our relationship turned . . . physical. Mr. Turner, his dad, didn't like the fact that we were even dating so if he would've found out we were . . . doing other things, he would've gone off the wall."

"Was he homophobic?"

"Extremely." Collins shifts on the bleachers. "Now, one weekend when his dad was out of town, Jake invited me over to his house. We watched movies for about half the night before he decided we should go up to his bedroom." He pauses and takes a deep breath. "Mr. Turner came home early and caught us in bed together."

"What'd he do?"

"He went insane. He kept screaming, 'You raped my son you goddamn fag.'" Collins runs his good hand over his face. "Then he went and got his gun. Jake had to keep him away from me while I got dressed and ran out of the house. I didn't stop running until I got to my apartment and locked the door."

"Did he pull the trigger?"

"No. I think it was just to scare me." I nod again.

"What happened next?"

"Jake called me and apologized for his dad's behavior and I asked him if he would run away with me."

"Run away as in elope?"

"Yeah. He told me he'd do anything to get away from his crazy ass dad." Collins pauses again. "The night before we were supposed to elope . . . someone knocked on my door. I expected it to be Jake, but when I opened it there were two girls standing there." I watch a tear fall from Collins' eye. "They asked if they could use my phone . . . and I said yes." Another tear falls. "I led them to my bedroom, which is where my phone is, and before I could reach for it they . . . they pushed me face first onto my bed . . . and handcuffed my hands behind my back." I want to say something, but I can't think of anything. "Then they flipped me over and started undressing me." More and more tears fall from Collins' eyes. "They kept telling me, 'Relax and just let it happen.'" Collins wraps his arms around himself. "I begged them the stop and they said they were just doing what they were paid to do."

"'Paid to do?'" I repeat. "Who the hell would . . ." Realization strikes me. "Mr. Turner." Collins nods.

"He paid them to come to my apartment . . . and rape me," he says. "And that's just what they did. They left me un-cuffed and scared to death." Collins covers his face with both of his hands before he continues speaking. "I didn't move for eight hours and I cried for four of those hours." He uncovers his face. "I wanted that bastard to die for telling those girls to do that to me. So I went into my kitchen, got a knife, hid it in my coat, and walked to Jake's house." He starts shaking. "I stabbed him ten times and Jake was glad I did after I explained why I did it." He stops shaking and his tears come back. "I was arrested, tried, and convicted of attempted murder." His head drops into his hands and starts sobbing uncontrollably.

"Even after you explained what happened to you?" I ask, wanting to cry myself. Collins nods, still crying. I lift his head up and pull him into a hug. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not . . . your fault," Collins replies, trying to stop himself from crying.

"It's not _yours _either." After our hug ends and Collins stops crying, I wipe the tears off of his cheeks with my sleeves.

"Thanks, Roger."

"For wiping away your tears?"

"No. For being my friend." Collins gives me a small smile and I smile back.

"You're welcome."

**And that's why Collins is in prison. :(**

**Review please.**


	7. The Night Visitor and The New Prisoner

**Next chapter. There's still some sadness. :( Maybe there'll be a happy chapter later on. Maybe . . .**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

"Hey, Collins?" I say as everyone starts walking back to their cells after dinner. Collins looks at me, but doesn't say anything. "Did you mean what you said?"

"What I said?" Collins asks.

"You know, after you told me about what happened to you."

"What'd I say?"

"You said I was your friend. Did you mean it?" Collins looks ahead.

"Sure," he says. "You're my . . . uh . . . friend." I look at him and raise an eyebrow.

"You . . . don't wanna be friends with me?" I ask. Collins doesn't respond and walks faster. I catch up to him and tap him on the shoulder. "Hello?" He continues to ignore me as we approach our cell, which is open. We enter it and Collins climbs onto his bunk. "Collins? Why are you ignoring me?"

"Tired," Collins says, lying down. "Good night."

"But what about my question?"

"What about it?"

"Aren't you gonna answer it?" Collins turns his back toward me. "Hey! I'm talking to you!" I get no response and, out of anger, punch Collins in the back as hard as I can.

"What the hell was that for!?" he yells angrily. I suddenly realize what I did.

"I'm sorry!" I tell him. "I didn't mean to-" I stop myself in mid-sentence as Collins jumps down from his bunk and our cell closes.

"Nowhere to run now, Roger," Collins says, backing me into a corner.

"I'm sorry!" I try again. "I _swear _I didn't mean to do that! Please don't hurt me!"

"What the hell is going on?" Warden Harris asks, standing in front of our cell.

"Nothing," Collins tells him. "Roger's just pestering me with a bunch of questions." The warden rolls his eyes and walks away. Collins turns back to me, gives me a glare, and climbs back onto his bunk. "I have trust issues."

"What?" I ask, stepping out of the corner.

"That's your answer."

"You don't wanna be friends with me because of your trust issues?"

"That's about right."

"But you can trust me."

"I haven't even known you for a full day and you know more about me than the people who've been here as long as I have. Come to think of it, I shouldn't have told you-"

"We've got a night visitor here," a guard's voice says. I turn to Collins.

"What's the difference between a night visitor and a normal visitor?" I ask him.

"Night visitors get a name tag and are allowed to come into the cell," he explains. "Sort of like a . . . rule free visit." I nod.

"Whose night visitor is it?" I hear Bones ask. The guard is suddenly at our cell and opening it while the visitor watches.

"No," I barely hear Collins whisper as the cell is opened. I look at him then back at the visitor. The visitor is the guy that made him cry earlier. I look at his name tag and see that it says: J. Turner. No wonder Collins freaked out. He's the infamous Mr. Turner. He steps into the cell and smiles at me.

_Go away._ _Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. Go away. _

"Are you new here?" Mr. Turner asks me.

"Um . . . yeah," I say, not making eye contact with him.

"And you're his cell mate?" I look at Collins, who looks like he's trying to disappear. I nod. "Well, you'd better be careful going to sleep around him. He's a rapist, you know." He steps past me to get to Collins.

"You're a liar," I finally respond.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Turner says. I turn around and face him.

"I said, you're a liar," I repeat.

"How am I a liar? More importantly, how would you know if I was a liar? You don't even know me."

"I know enough about you to know that you're a sick, twisted, homophobic bastard."

"May I inquire why you think that about me?" This guy honestly thinks he's an innocent man. Now I see _exactly _why Collins stabbed him. Not only did he ruin his life, but he doesn't feel one drop of remorse for what he did.

_If only I had a knife right now . . ._

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't sending two women to someone's apartment to rape the person who lives there sick and twisted?" I ask somewhat quietly, crossing my arms.

"I suppose the criminal up there told you that," Mr. Turner retorts.

"_You're _the fucking criminal! _He's _the victim in all of this!"

"Was _he _sent to the hospital barely clinging to life because he had ten stab wounds that were all constantly bleeding?"

"You deserved it! You know you did! He didn't do anything wrong!" Mr. Turner suddenly grabs the guard's nightstick and hits me in the head with it, knocking me to the ground.

"LEAVE HIM ALONE!" I hear Collins' voice boom. His voice is followed by a loud thud, which I'm guessing are his feet hitting the ground. I glance up at him and see that he now has the nightstick.

"Well, you've finally decided to come down from there," Mr. Turner says.

"He has absolutely nothing to do with this so leave him out of it." Collins shoves Mr. Turner, tosses the nightstick to the ground, and helps me up. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I tell him, clutching the back of my head. "I'm fine."

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" Warden Harris' asks Mr. Turner, picking the nightstick up and giving it back to the guard. There's a Hispanic prisoner I've never seen before standing behind him.

"Just visiting," Mr. Turner replies. "Is that a problem?"

"Yes it is. And it's going to get a hell of a lot bigger if you don't haul your ass out of here _right now_." Mr. Turner gives Collins a glare and steps out of the cell. Warden Harris pulls the guard closer to him. "That man is public enemy number one. He's not allowed to visit day or night. Now, get him out of here and go spread the word. You got that?" The guard nods and leads Mr. Turner out of D Block. Warden Harris pushes the unknown prisoner in front of him. "Do you two mind if I put this guy in here for tonight? He's a last minute prisoner."

"I don't mind," I say. I turn to Collins, who's staring at the last minute prisoner with widen eyes and his mouth half open.

"Collins?" Warden Harris says. "Do you mind if he stays here tonight?" Collins shakes his head. "Good. Now I have to find a cot or something for him to sleep on."

"He can . . . uh . . . take my bunk," Collins responds. "I'm not goin' to sleep anyway." The Hispanic guy smiles at him and he looks away.

"How generous of you." Warden Harris shuts and locks our cell as the new prisoner climbs onto Collins' bunk and Collins sits on the ground. I lay down on my bunk and before I close my eyes, I notice Collins staring up at the new prisoner.

**

* * *

**

"So who's that new guy?" Big E asks me.

"I don't know," I answer. "I didn't talk to him." I look over at Collins and see that he's staring at the Hispanic prisoner again. "Collins? Did you talk to him?"

"Huh?" Collins replies, still staring.

"Did you talk to the new prisoner last night?" I ask again.

"Uh uh." I turn his face toward me.

"Could you look in my direction when you're talking to me?" I ask.

"Sorry." He turns his attention back to the new guy and adds quietly,"He's just so amazing."

"Do you like that guy or something?" Dog walks over to the Hispanic guy, who's trying desperately to figure out how things work around here, sniffs his arm, walks over to Bones, and whispers something in his ear. Bones suddenly stands up.

**"FRESH MEAT!" **he yells. Everyone, save Collins and I, stands up. There's a worried look on Collins' face. He tries to stand up, but I grab his arm.

"What're you doin'?" he asks.

"I was just about to ask you the same thing," I reply.

"I gotta help him."

"Collins, you can't help everybody. Don't you realize that every time you help someone you end up getting hurt?"

"I don't want _him _to get hurt." Big E and A-Bomb grab the frightened prisoner, causing him to drop his tray. "Roger, let me go." Bones cracks his knuckles.

"You shouldn't get in the middle of this. You don't even know that guy."

"I didn't know you either." Okay. He got me there. "Roger, please." I stare at him for a moment. I guess his heart _is _in the right place. I sigh and reluctantly let go of his arm. "Thanks."

"You're only doing this if I can help you," I tell him. His eyes widen. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"_You _wanna _help_?" he asks.

"Why is that such a shock to you?"

"Well . . . it's just . . . honestly, what could you possibly do?"

"I can create a distraction and then you can get that guy out of there." Before Collins can respond, I stand up and run toward Bones, whose fist is raised in the air. I throw myself in front of the Hispanic prisoner and grab Bones' fist just as it's about to slam into the new guy's face. Bones pulls his fist back and I turn around to see Collins take the new prisoner by the hand and pull him out of the cafeteria.

"Well, well, well," Bones says, causing me to turn back around and face him. "Look, who's tryna be a hero all of a sudden." He pushes me to the ground with so much force that it takes me a few moments to process that I'm even on the ground. I look up at his furious expression and try to crawl away from him. He stomps on my back and I fall to the ground again just as Collins pushes his way to the front of the crowd.

"Collins, help!" I plead.

"Shut the hell up!" Bones tells me, as he brings his foot up and then stomps on my back again, harder than ever.

"Get your damn foot off of him and leave him alone," Collins demands. His voice is calm.

"Hey, the warden told me to keep my hands off _you_." Bones takes his foot off of my back and picks me up by my collar. "He didn't say anything about _him_." He punches me in the stomach with his free hand. Collins manages to pull me away from Bones, but he pulls me back after only three seconds.

"Let me go!" I demand. Collins pulls me away from Bones again and pushes me behind him.

"You know what?" Bones asks rhetorically, making a tight fist. "Fuck Warden Harris!" He raises his fist.

**"NO!" **I yell, jumping in front of Collins, only succeeding in getting punched in the face. Hard. I stumble around for a moment before I fall to the ground and everything goes black . . .

**WOOO! That wasn't to Roger getting knocked out. It was to this chapter being done. Who knows who the new prisoner is? C'mon! I know you know who it is! :)**

**Review please!**


	8. The Old Warden is Back

**Next chapter! YAY! YAY! YAY! :D**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

"Roger?" a voice that I can't make out says. "Roger, babe, you okay?" I groan and open my eyes slightly. "He's waking up!" I open my eyes and see April looking down at me. "Don't _ever _scare me like that again!"

"Wha . . . what happened?" I ask, sitting up slowly. After realizing that I'm in some type of hospital bed and I notice Mark and Maureen standing at the end of the bed and Collins sitting in a chair in the corner.

"The warden told us someone punched you," Mark replies, glancing behind him. He lowers his voice. "Was it _that _guy?" I look at Collins, who's glaring at the back of Mark's head. He _obviously _heard that.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Well, he's a dangerous criminal so I wouldn't be surprised if he's the one who did it." Collins stands up and walks toward Mark, still glaring at him.

"For your information," Collins begins, turning Mark around to face him, "he _happens _to be my only friend here. Why in the hell would I wanna hurt him?" Mark is silent and Collins grabs his shirt collar with his good hand. "You gonna give me an answer, or am I gonna have to _make _you answer me?"

"Don't hurt him!" Maureen cries. "He didn't do anything to you!" Collins turns to her slowly.

"If I want your input, I'll beat it outta you," he says.

"Collins, stop it," I tell him. "These are my friends. They don't mean any harm." Collins glares at Mark once more, lets go of his collar, and sits back down. "Sorry about that, Mark. He has trust and anger issues." Warden Harris then entered the room.

"He needs to control his anger," he says angrily.

"Who?" I ask, thinking he might've heard my comment about Collins.

"Watson a.k.a. Bones. I put him in the Hot Box again and this time he's _staying _there until I _feel _like letting him out."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"Not harsh enough." Warden Harris shakes his head. "I trust you realize that your friends have been contacted."

"Yeah. One of them made Collins a little angry though."

"Collins?" Warden Harris quickly turns to the corner Collins is in and glares at him. "You're supposed to be on kitchen duty. What the hell are you doing in here?"

"I wanted to make sure he was okay," Collins says. He scratches the splint on his left wrist.

"Well, you can see he's alright now, so get back to work." What the hell? Why's he being so mean to him all of a sudden?

"But . . . I wanna stay with him. He's the only person who understands me."

"I don't give a shit! If you're not out of here in when I come back . . . so help you God." Warden Harris storms out of the room.

"What's up with that guy?" Maureen asks.

"That's what _I _wanna know," I reply.

"Sampson died this morning," Collins answers. "Warden Harris was the one who had to decide whether or not to pull the plug." Holy shit. The warden is taking Sampson's health out on Collins again. What's the matter with this guy? "There's gonna be a funeral next week and everybody's gotta attend."

"He . . . _died_?" I still can't get over the shock. Collins nods.

"Just cause some guy died, doesn't give the warden the right to hurt people, does it?" Maureen asks.

"No, but try tellin' _him _that," Collins replies.

"That's just what I'm gonna do." Maureen leaves the room after the warden and Mark runs after.

"What's she planning on doing?" Collins asks.

"I'm not sure," I tell him. "You can never tell with Maureen." April stares at me for a moment.

"God, that black eye looks awful," she says. Black eye? I have a black eye? "How did this happen?"

"He was saving my life," Collins tells her. She turns and looks at him.

"Can I ask what happened to you?" she asks. "I mean, Roger said something about Unit F, but what exactly happened over there?" I look at Collins and then back at April. There's an awkward silence between us.

"They tried to kill me," Collins says finally. "Hamilton and Sampson, they were prison guards, took me over to Unit F and as soon as the prisoners saw me they decided to use me as a punching bag. This really big guy grabbed me and started hitting me in the head for no reason. When the guy started slamming my head on the ground, Hamilton tried to stop him, but the guy snapped his neck." I wince Collins pauses and shifts in his seat. "Then Sampson stepped in and another prisoner stole his gun and shot him twice with it . . . in the stomach."

"Holy shit!" I exclaim. "Why would they-"

"Maureen, I can't believe you did that!" Mark yells, pulling Maureen back into the room.

"Well, he deserved it," Maureen replies, pulling away from Mark and folding her arms.

"What'd she do _now_?" April asks.

"She bit the warden!" Mark exclaims.

"She did _what!?_" I ask. "Maureen, _why _would you do that!?"

"He was being an asshole to that guy," Maureen answers, pointing to Collins.

"But you don't even know him," April says.

"So what? He looks like he's been through some tough shit. The warden yelling at him for no reason is the _last _thing he needs." Warden Harris suddenly returns to the room, clutching his hand, which is bleeding. "Speak of the devil."

"She didn't mean it!" Mark tells the warden. "She . . . has . . . an illness!"

"Do you _really _expect me to believe that bullshit?" Warden Harris asks angrily. He the notices that Collins is still in the room and glares at him. "Collins! I told you to be out of here when I came back!"

"I know, but I-" Collins starts.

"No 'buts!' Consider your disobedience as your invitation to Cell Triple X!" Collins' eyes widen as Warden Harris leaves the room again.

"I don't know what Cell Triple X is, but I don't like the sound of it," I say. Warden Harris reenters the room, holding a roll of gauze and a bottle of peroxide in his un-bitten hand, followed by two very muscular prison guards. Collins quickly stands up and backs into a corner. The guards come toward him.

"Let's go, Collins," one of them says, grabbing Collins by his arm.

"Crawford's gonna eat you alive," the other one says, grabbing Collins' other arm.

"NO!" Collins yells, trying to break free from the guards. "LET ME GO! YOU CAN'T TAKE ME DOWN THERE!"

"They can with my permission," Warden Harris taunts as the guards start to drag Collins out of the room.

"PLEASE DON'T LET THEM! _PLEASE!_ HE'LL KILL ME! I KNOW HE WILL! MAKE THEM LET ME GO! LET GO OF ME!" Once Collins has been taken out of the room, Warden Harris pours the peroxide on his Maureen bite and then wraps the gauze around his hand.

"Get some rest, Davis," he tells me after his hand is properly wrapped. "It'll make the time go by faster."

"How long do I have to stay in this room?" I ask him, not believing that he doesn't feel the slightest bit guilty that he apparently just sent Collins to his death.

"Three days."

"Why three days?"

"Stop complaining. You get three free days. Which is just going to make the day you get to leave this room a hell of a lot harder."

"What about Collins?"

"I'll give him about . . . three minutes or three hours. Depending on what mood Crawford's in." As Warden Harris leaves the room, I think about Collins. How am I supposed to stay sane if he's killed? Who will tell me what not to do so I don't end up in Cell Triple X . . . whatever the hell that is? I think a little more before I make a silent decision.

I'm getting out of this place . . . and I'm taking Collins with me.

**That's the eighth chapter! Hope you enjoyed it.**

**Review please.**


	9. Foiled Plan

**CELL MATES UPDATE!!! I PROMISED I WASN'T GONNA KILL COLLINS SO I JUST HURT HIM REALLY, REALLY BADLY!!! AND ONCE PEOPLE SEE HOW BADLY I'VE HURT THE POOR ANARCHIST, THEY'LL ALL HATE ME FOR ALWAYS AND ETERNITY!!! AHHHH!!! *falls down on the ground* **

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

Being in the hospital wing in prison is actually quite nice. You're away from all the angry people who want to kill you, the food is better, and you don't have to do anything for a while. I won't be in here long enough to enjoy that though. I have the perfect plan to rescue Collins and escape this place. Unfortunately, my plan doesn't come with a full-proof stamp, ensuring that I won't get caught.

I shut my eyes and pretend to be asleep as Warden Harris enters the room. I hear the light switch click and I see nothing but darkness when I open my eyes again. Cautiously, I take my shoes off, get out of the bed, tiptoe to the door, and open it slowly. I look down both ends of the hallway as those lights go out as well.

_Great! Now I'm gonna have to do this shit in the dark!_

I start carefully walking down the now pitch black hallway and a light suddenly turn on. I freeze and look around to make sure no one is there before sprinting down the hallway, to avoid being in caught in the apparently motion censored lights. I quietly slip into a double door and sigh. I made it out of the hospital wing.

_Next stop: Warden Harris' office._

I silently make my way through the many hallways of the jailhouse until I get to Cell Block D. After making sure everyone is asleep, I run through the middle of the cells and slide into a wall. I put my hands on it to keep myself from falling. I turn back around and look at all the cells. No one woke up.

_Made it!_

I go through another door and my heart sinks. There are five prison guards in the room sleeping on random pieces of furniture. I tiptoe slowly and quietly through the room and accidentally bump into one of the guard's legs. I hold my breath as the guard moves around a bit before settling down again. I make it out of the room and sigh heavily. Noticing that I'm finally in the room I was in the night I first arrived, I look at the words on the door that is right in front of where I'd been sitting.

_Warden Harris. YES!_

The door starts to open and I run to a storage closet. I open the closet, get into it, open the door slightly, peer out of the small crack, and watch as Warden Harris goes into the room I just came out of. I wait a few moments before slowly opening the door, going into the warden's office, and turning on the light. I look on his desk and see something that looks like a map of the prison. Certain sections are circled, but I ignore those and take the map.

_I'm __definitely__ gonna need this._

I open one of his desk drawers and see a bunch of manila folders that I don't have time to go through, so I shut it and move on to the drawer under it. This drawer has a key in it sitting on top of a bunch of papers. I search the rest of the office for more keys, but only find a small flashlight. I take it along with the key I found in the drawer. I sneak out of the office with the three items, shine the flashlight on the map, and start my quest for Cell Triple X.

**About One Hour Later**

I'm lost. I know I am. I'm lost forever in a dark hallway with a dim flashlight. Damn it, why didn't I think about the possibility of getting lost!? I went down four flights of stairs, turned right, and went through a door like the map told me to.

_Where the hell am I!? _

I shine the flashlight ahead of me and the light hits a guy in a jumpsuit like mine, who flinches and stares at me. I lightly jog toward the guy so I can ask him if he knows where this place is and recognize him as the Hispanic prisoner Collins kept staring at. He's kneeling in front of a cell and there's a tiny flashlight on the ground next to him. It's off so I'm assuming it died. The Hispanic prisoner stops staring at me and looks in the cell. I shine my flashlight in the cell and I see Collins lying on the floor inside, unmoving and barely breathing.

"Oh my God!" I exclaim, dropping the flashlight, the map, and they key all at the same time. Collins' stitches have been ripped out of his forehead, which is bleeding, his jumpsuit is torn in several places, and he looks like he's been stabbed. The Hispanic prisoner picks my flashlight up and puts a finger to his mouth, telling me to be quiet.

"You'll wake him up," he whispers.

"Who?" I whisper back, still in shock and wanting to know what happened to Collins. The Hispanic prisoner points the flashlight into the cell and I follow the light. There's an extremely large man sleeping on a way too small cot in the cell. "Who is he?"

"This is his cell," the Hispanic prisoner whispers. "They brought Collins down here a few hours ago and put him in there with him."

"How do you know Collins?" I whisper back.

"The guards that brought him down here kept saying, 'The more you struggle, the worse it'll be, Collins.' I think the other guy's name is Crawford."

"You were down here when they put him in there?"

"My cell's right behind us." I turn and see a cell that looks just like the ones in D Block. "That's the only cell they could find for me. My name's Angel, by the way."

"How'd you get out, Angel?"

"I slipped through the bars. It's easy when you're as small as I am."

"Can I ask why you're in prison anyway?"

"I got caught stealing food one too many times and instead of making me do community service, the judge sentenced me to three months here." Angel shines the light on Collins. "I wish I could get him out of there." I suddenly remember the key that I took from Warden Harris' desk.

"Let me see that," I whisper to Angel. He gives me the flashlight and I shine it around on the ground. I finally find the key, pick it up, put it the keyhole, and turn it. It unlocks the cell and I slide it open slowly. I quietly walk into the cell and kneel down beside Collins. "Collins? Collins, please wake up." Collins doesn't move as Angel appears beside me. I stare at how helpless my friend looks and start to cry. A siren starts blaring, waking Crawford up.

"Who the hell are you?" he asks Angel and I angrily in the deepest voice I've ever heard. We turn to him and quickly stand up as he comes toward us, a fierce glare on his face. I push Angel out of the cell and to the floor as Crawford picks me up by my arm. I feel the bones in my arm snap in several places as he throws me into a wall. I scream louder than I ever have.

_God, please don't let me die in here!_

Crawford notices that his cell is open, smirks, and charges out of it, nearly stepping on Angel, who comes running into the cell.

"Are you okay?" he asks. He gently touches my arm and I cry out in pain.

"He broke it!" I cry. "He broke my arm!" Warden Harris appears in front of the cell with a flashlight.

"Good God," he says, staring at Collins with widened eyes. Over the still blaring siren, I hear a loud crash followed by a series of screams. Warden Harris looks down the hallway and cups his hands around his mouth. "SOMEBODY GET THE DART AND CALL AN AMBULANCE!"

_What's a dart gonna do?_

Warden Harris comes into the cell and kneels beside me. He lifts my arm and I scream.

"Don't touch it!" I demand.

"What the hell are you doing down here anyway, goddamn-it!?" Warden Harris replies.

"I wouldn't be down here if you hadn't made those guards put Collins in that cell! You knew what was gonna happen! Why would you do this to him!?" Warden Harris is silent, so I continue. "How fucking important _was _Sampson to you that you had to send Collins down here!? Just because he died doesn't mean Collins has to die! And now, thanks to you, he might!" Crawford suddenly appears in front of his cell.

"Warden Harris," he says. "Nice of you to visit me." He charges at the warden and picks him up by the collar of his shirt.

"Somebody take him down!" Warden Harris pleads. Not even a minute later, Crawford drops Warden Harris and falls face first to the floor right next to Collins. There's a dart in the back of his leg. Warden Harris stands up and brushes himself off as a prison guard comes into the cell. "What the hell took so long?"

"Sorry, sir," the guard says.

"Where's the damn ambulance I asked for?"

"It just arrived, sir. Paramedics are on their way down here." I try to move my arm, wincing as I do, while several prison guards haul Crawford back onto the cot in his cell. Angel is next to Collins, gently stroking his cheek. Thirty seconds later, three paramedics appear and two of them lift Collins onto a stretcher. The other one helps me up, touching my broken arm. I start to cry, not because of the pain in arm, but because I might lose my only friend here. After walking up the four flights of stairs I had to come down earlier, I'm led outside, Collins right in front of me on the stretcher. We're both put into the ambulance that's waiting and I can only stare at Collins and hope he'll be okay.

_Please don't die, Collins._

**I hurt Roger too! That's not right. COLLINS IS NOT DEAD! I SWEAR! Chapter nine is done! Review it please!**


	10. Flatline

**Next chapter! Yay! It's been quite a while since I've updated this and I'm quite proud of this chapter in some ways. I'm ashamed of it in others. Read on, good people.**

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

"Where's my friend?" I ask for about the tenth time. I'm sitting on a hospital bed and wearing a hospital gown. I honestly don't see why the gown is necessary, but I don't argue either. "Where'd they take him?" The doctor, who is putting my arm in a cast, sighs and the nurse, who is helping him, rolls her eyes. "Is someone gonna give me an answer?" I feel a sudden sharp pain shoot through my left arm. "Ow! That hurt!"

"Well, if you would keep still, maybe it wouldn't hurt as much," the nurse snaps. I glare at her.

"Well, if my questions get answers, maybe I wouldn't be so antsy and I wouldn't move!" I snap back.

"Well, maybe-"

"Will you two please stop arguing?" the doctor asks. "I'm trying to work here."

"Where's my friend?" I ask for the eleventh time.

"I'm pretty sure your friend is being taken care of," the nurse tells me.

"That's not what I asked!"

"If you let me finish up with your arm, I will make sure you're taken to your friend, okay?" the doctor says. I nod and sit still. It's quiet for a few moments. "Do you mind telling me how this happened?"

"I already told you, I was trying to save my friend," I reply.

"From what exactly?"

"I told you that too. Shouldn't you write this stuff down?"

"I'm distracting you." The nurse leaves the room.

"Distracting me from what?" A severe pain goes through my arm as the doctor moves it and holds it against my chest. I cry out in pain and try to get his hand off of my arm."Stop it! It hurts!"

"Calm down," the doctor tells me. The nurse returns with a sling under one of her arms and two cups in each of her hands. One cup contains water and the other contains an enormous pill. She sits the cups down on the small table next to the hospital bed and puts the sling on me so that I can't move my arm out of the position the doctor is holding it in. I continue to whimper from the pain. "You'll be given some pain medication so you can sleep easy tonight."

"Can I have it now?" I ask. The doctor smiles at me and the nurse picks the cups back up. She gives me the cup of water and takes the pill out of the other cup.

"Open up," she tells me. I stare at the pill with widened eyes. "Open your mouth." I shake my head, still staring at the giant pill. The nurse hits my arm and I scream in pain. She puts the pill into my mouth while I scream. "Drink the water and swallow it." I do as I'm told, glaring at the nurse the entire time.

"What'd I just take?" I ask after successfully swallowing the pill.

"That's the pain medication I told you about," the doctor replies. He turns to the nurse. "Next time, don't put the patient in more pain so he'll take his medicine. We could've easily given it to him through an IV, you know."

"I know," the nurse says, smirking at me. I glare at her again. If my arm wasn't broken, I'd strangle this bitch.

"I suppose you'll want to see your friend now," the doctor says to me.

"I only asked eleven times where he is," I reply somewhat angrily.

"Nurse, will you take him to-"

"No!" I interrupt. "I'm not going anywhere with her! _You_ take me to my friend!"

"I can't," the doctor tells me. "I have other patients I have to tend to."

"Then make some other nurse take me to him!" The nurse rolls her eyes and leaves the room. About two minutes later, a different nurse enters the room. She smiles at the doctor and then at me.

"Nancy, will you please take him to the ICU?" the doctor asks her. "He wants to see his friend."

"Sure," Nancy replies. "I was just on my way back to the ICU. What's his friend's name?"

"I'm not sure."

"He said his name is Collins, but that's only his last name," I tell them.

"Well, there's two men in the ICU with the last name Collins," Nancy says. "One's black and one's white."

"The Collins I'm looking for is black."

"Then I know exactly which room he's in. Would you like me to take you to him in a wheel chair or would you like to walk?"

"My arm is broken. Not my legs." Nancy flashes me a smile as I get off of the bed and stand in front of her.

"Just make sure he's back in this room in an hour or so," the doctor tells Nancy, who's still smiling at me.

"No problem," she assures him. He then leaves the room. "Come with me." Nancy leaves the room and I follow her. We walk past the nurse who hit me in the arm. I exchange glares with her.

"Um, Nancy?" I say. "Wait, am I allowed to call you that?" Nancy stops walking and turns toward me.

"Of course," she answers. "Did you have a question?"

"Yea. What's wrong with that other nurse?"

"Oh, don't pay her any attention. She's just pissy because she's trying to quit smoking." We arrive at an elevator that's opening and get on it. Nancy pushes the number five and the doors close.

A few moments later, the doors open again and we step out of the elevator. The floor is extremely cold to me because I don't have on shoes or socks. Nancy leads me to room 600 and opens the door slowly.

I walk into the room ahead of her and gasp. Collins is lying in a hospital bed, unconscious, hooked up to several machines, and wearing a gown like mine. The sound of the heart monitor beeping is the only noise in the room. I walk to the side of the bed and stare at my friend. The stitches in his forehead have been replaced. I briefly glance at a cart that's in the corner of the room before I gently place a hand on Collins' arm and turn my attention to Nancy.

"Is he gonna be okay?" I ask her.

"I hope so," she says. "I hate losing a patient." I look back at Collins. He looks more alive now than he did in Crawford's cell. I give his arm a small squeeze and some kind of alarm goes off. I quickly take my hand off of his arm and step back. Nancy rushes to me and pulls me away from Collins. A doctor and another nurse run into the room.

"What's going on?" I ask worriedly as the nurse moves the cart from the corner.

"Stay right here," Nancy tells me. She goes to the cart and picks up two paddles from the cart. The other nurse puts her fingers on the side of Collins' neck.

"No pulse," she says quickly. Nancy gives the doctor the paddles. I look at Collins' face and my attention remains there.

"Clear," the doctor says before pressing the paddles onto Collins' chest. I close my eyes. I don't want to watch this. "Clear." The alarm is still going off. "Clear."

"Come on, Collins," I whisper. "You can pull through this. Come on." The alarm stops sounding. The doctor's voice stops. Everything is silent for two agonizing seconds.

I hear two beeps that are five seconds apart come from the heart monitor before one long steady beep sounds.

My eyes snap open and I look at the screen of the heart monitor. I can see it perfectly from where I'm standing.

Flatline.

**I know what you're thinking. I know **_**exactly **_**what you're thinking and you know what? Stop it. Okay? Just stop it. **

**Review please? You have permission to yell at me. Just as long as you've stopped that thought.**


	11. Good News & Bad News

**I guess I've kept you all in suspense long enough . . . **

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

"No!" I scream, running to Collins' bedside. I shake him. "You can't die! You just can't!" I look to the doctor. He still has the paddles in his hands. The continuos beep has stopped. Nancy reaches for Collins' wrist.

"Call it," the doctor tells her sadly.

"No!" I cry. "He can't die! Do something! Use the paddles again!"

"It won't do any good. He's de-"

"I've got a pulse!" Nancy exclaims.

"Recharge," the doctor says. The other nurse moves me away from Collins. I stand at the end of it and watch, silently praying Collins will pull through. Nancy pushes a button on the cart. "Clear." The paddles are pressed to Collins' chest again. His limp body moves slightly. The heart monitor's continuous beep comes back for four long seconds. The beep is the only sound in the room.

"Come on, Collins," I whisper. "Live, dammit, live." The heart monitor suddenly begins beeping at a steady pace again. I let out a sigh of relief and slowly walk toward the bed.

"Nurse, stay with him, please," the doctor tells Nancy. He and the other nurse leave the room. I make my way to the side of Collins' bed. I stare at my unconscious friend's face. I gasp softly as his eyes slowly open. He looks at me.

"Collins," I say gently, "if you _ever _scare me like that again, I will _kill _you." Collins gives a small smile and I take his hand in mine.

* * *

I sit by Collins' bedside and stare at the IV in his arm as it slowly drips. It's been six weeks since he almost died. I no longer have to wear a sling on my arm (I still have a cast on it) and Collins has been taken out of the Intensive Care Unit. He has a new room that is still private. I spend most of my time in his room, mostly because I've been paranoid that he would die at any given moment. His stomach growls.

"How does it feel to know you can _finally _eat solid food?" I ask him.

"Pretty damn good," he replies with a smile. We share a laugh. "Thanks for carin' about me, Rog. It means more to me than you know." I smile at him.

"Anytime," I reply. "You called me 'Rog.' Does that mean I can call you 'Col' now?"

"Hell no." I frown slightly. "'Rog' sounds _so much better _than 'Col.' You know it does." I think about the two names for a moment.

"Yeah, I can't argue with you there," I say. Nancy then rolls a tray into the room. There are two plates of food on it. One for me and one for Collins. I take my plate off of the tray and set it on my lap. Collins keeps his plate on the tray. I've learned throughout the time we've been in the hospital together that he's a vegetarian and I'm the only person besides his old boyfriend that he's come out to.

After we eat our food, Nancy returns to the room to take the dirty dishes away.

"Roger, your friends are here to see you," she tells me as she takes my plate from me. "I'll bring them in once I get rid of these dishes." She places the plate on the tray and rolls it out of the room. About five minutes later, the door opens again and April, Mark, and Maureen file into the room. Nancy and two other nurses then enter the room with three chairs.

"Hey, Roger," Mark says while the nurses place the chairs in a line. He sits down in one of them as the nurses leave.

"Hey, babe," April says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. She then moves one of the empty chairs next to my chair and sits down. Maureen practically skips over to the side of Collins' bed.

"Hi, Collins!" she exclaims. She plants a noisy kiss on Collins' forehead. "How are you feeling today?"

"I'm feelin' better, Maureen," Collins replies, chuckling.

"Good." Maureen kisses Collins' forehead again and Mark stands up. She has yet to greet me.

"Hi there, Maureen," I say. I receive a small wave. I roll my eyes and Collins laughs. I'm glad that he and Maureen are friends now, but I'm not so thrilled about being cast aside. Maureen grabs Collins' hand and Mark pulls her away from him.

"Maureen, do you _have _to flirt with _everyone?" _Mark asks. Maureen rolls her eyes and sighs.

"Stop being so dramatic," she tells him. "I wasn't flirting with him. Even if he _is _really cute." Maureen winks at Collins, who chuckles and shakes his head.

"You're doing it again!" Mark shouts.

"I'm _just _being friendly, Pookie. No need to get upset."

"No need to get upset? Are you kidding me? You do this to me _all the time!"_

"Mark, calm down. If it bothers you that much, I'll try to stop being so friendly."

"Is _that _what they call it these days?" April interjects. She and I share a laugh as she grabs my hand.

"Kiss, Pookie?" Maureen says to Mark, completely ignoring April. Mark sighs and Maureen gives him a peck on the lips. The two of them then sit down.

"So, is Benny coming today?" I say in an attempt to change the subject.

"No," Mark says. "He said he's gonna come tomorrow. He's-"

"He'd rather hang out with his stupid, rich girlfriend than come see his _best friend _in the hospital!" Maureen interrupts. She folds her arms and scowls at the floor. "Stupid fuck . . ."

"Maureen, it's fine with me if he wants to spend time with his girlfriend," I assure her. She needs to calm down. It's a scary sight when Maureen Johnson gets mad at anything or anyone.

"He's _still _a stupid fuck." Mark rolls his eyes as a man I've never seen before walks into the room. He is wearing a suit and tie and has a somewhat sad look on his face. He glances at everyone in the room as he makes his way to Collins' bedside. He looks as if he's trying to decide whether or not he should speak.

"How are you feeling, Tom?" he asks. Well, now I know Collins' first name. Wait . . . he's named after a drink?

"I'm feelin' alright," Collins replies.

"Good, good. I assume the doctors and nurses have been taking good care of you."

"What're you doin' here, Steve?" Collins voice sounds a little annoyed. "Are you here to tell me I don't get my appeal or somethin'?" I conclude that this Steve person is Collins' lawyer. Steve is quiet for a moment, undoubtedly trying to choose his words carefully.

"I honestly _wish _that's why I was here," he finally says in a soft voice. I take a look at the worried expression on Collins' face and instantly become concerned. "Tom . . . I have some good news . . . and I have some bad news. Now, I'll give you the good news fir-"

"I want the bad news first," Collins interrupts.

"Tom . . . are you sure?" Collins simply nods. "Well . . . one of the girls who r-"

"Don't say it," Collins interjects quickly.

"I'm sorry. One of the girls who . . . attacked you came to my office a few days ago and she asked about you."

"What the fuck did she ask about me for?"

"She told me she feels terrible about what happened." Collins looks away from Steve. "And at the time it happened, she needed money to pay her drug dealer and she didn't care where it came from. She would've been killed if she didn't come up with it."

"I don't give a shit!" Collins' attention is back on Steve. He has an angry expression on his face. "She could've gotten the money some other way! She didn't have to . . ." Collins stops himself in mid sentence and takes a deep breath. "Go on."

"She also told me she hasn't slept much since it happened because of the guilt," Steve continues. He then places a hand on Collins' shoulder. "Part of her guilt is from knowing what she did to you, but the majority of it is from . . . knowing she was HIV positive when it happened."

My eyes widen and Collins stares at Steve in disbelief. It's dead silent for a moment.

"I . . . I have . . . HIV?" Collins asks. He looks like he's about to cry.

"No . . . you have AIDS." Collins winces as if he's been punched in the stomach. He looks away from Steve again and shrugs his hand off of his shoulder. "I checked with a doctor when I came here. The HIV went unnoticed for too long, Tom. I'm _so _sorry."

"What's . . . the good news?" Collins voice is just above a whisper.

"I shared this information with Warden Alan Harris and the judge that sentenced you to prison. They both agreed they don't want you to . . . die in prison." Collins looks back at Steve.

"What are you sayin'?" he asks. Steve places his hand on Collins' shoulder again.

"You're free, Tom."

**Review my sad chapter please.**

**Random question: Should I make a sequel to this story?**


	12. No One's Acting Like Themselves

**I own nothing. The Almighty Larson owns it all.**

April, Mark, and Maureen are gone and Collins asked Steve to leave the room. It's just the two of us now. We haven't said anything. We've just been sitting here in silence. I feel like I _should _say something, but I'm afraid I'll only make things worse. If I hug him, he might punch me or something. Then again, he _may _hug me back. I can't tell. He doesn't really have an expression. He's just staring at the wall in front of him. I can't even imagine how he feels right now. I look down at the floor and remain silent.

"I'm gonna die," I hear Collins whisper. I bring my attention to him as tears begin streaming down his cheeks. "I'm gonna fucking _die." I stand up, walk to his bedside, and slide my hand in _his. He looks at me. "I don't wanna die, Roger."

I just stare at him. I can't think of anything to say. I hug him as he begins sobbing uncontrollably. I still don't say anything. I'm at a complete loss for words. I hear the door open, but I don't bother turning to see who opened it.

"Davis," a familiar voice says. The hug I'm giving Collins ends and I turn to face Warden Harris. I glare at him. "I'd like to speak with Collins alone, if you don't mind."

"Of course I fucking mind!" I shout. "You don't care about him! Hell, it's _your _fault he's here anyway! What makes you think I'm gonna leave him alone with you?"

"Listen-"

"I'm not gonna listen to _anything _you say! And the only way I'll be leaving this room is if Collins asks me to!" My glare grows fiercer. Everything is still and silent for about a minute and a half. Warden Harris sighs and takes a step toward me.

"Sampson . . . was my lover," he tells me. My eyes widen and my mouth drops open. "I was upset that he died and Collins managed to survive. I know that's no reason to have sent Collins to Crawford's cell and I apologize for that. Now, can I _please _speak with him alone?" I close my mouth and remain silent.

"You can go, Roger," Collins says. I turn to him as he wipes tears off of his cheeks.

"Are you sure?" I ask. He simply nods. I give Warden Harris a "you-better-not-hurt-him" look before I walk to the door and exit the room.

When I get to my room, I lie down on the bed and I think of possible things that the warden is talking to Collins about. I hope he's apologizing for treating him like shit for six years. He owes him _more _than an apology, but it's a start. This is going to drive me insane. I wish Collins had asked me to stay with him. He really needs a friend right now. Besides, I want to spend as much time with him as I possibly can before he gets to leave the hospital and is released from prison.

Wait . . . where is he supposed to stay? There's no way his apartment is vacant after all this time. He probably wouldn't be able to stay in it even if it _was. _This is awful. He's a free man, but he has nowhere to live.

My eyes land on the phone that's on the bedside table and an idea occurs to me. I pick up the receiver and dial the number to the loft. It rings twice before someone picks up.

"_Hello?" _Mark's voice says.

"Hey, Mark," I reply.

"_Hey. Is everything okay?"_

"Yeah. I'm calling about something regarding Collins."

"_How's he doing?"_

"He cried a little."

"_Poor guy. At least he doesn't have to stay in prison."_

"That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, he doesn't have anywhere to go once he gets out."

"_Yeah?"_

"And we have that extra room that's filled with a bunch of random crap, so I was thinking maybe you guys could clear it out, make it into a bedroom, and Collins could stay there." Mark is silent for a moment. "Mark? Hello?"

"_Roger, we don't really know much about him. He could be dangerous."_

"He's the nicest guy in the world, Mark. I mean, he gets defensive if someone he cares about is being threatened, but other than that, he's completely harmless. Please, Mark. I can't just let him live on the streets. I'm his only friend. Do it for me." Mark sighs heavily.

"_Okay, fine. I'll run it by the others."_

"Thanks, Mark. I'll talk to you soon." I hang up the phone as a doctor enters the room with Nancy following him. She's carrying a small, circular saw and a towel.

"Are you ready to have that cast taken off?" the doctor asks me.

"It's the only thing that's keeping me here instead of prison, so . . . not really," I reply. The doctor chuckles as Nancy plugs the saw in and hands it to him. She then holds my arm still while the doctor slowly and carefully cuts my cast open. The second my cast is taken off and placed next to me, I smell the stench coming from my arm.

"Come with me," Nancy says. I stand up and follow her to the small bathroom where she thoroughly washes and rinses my arm. After she dries it, I bend it a few times just for the hell of it. I smile and continue to bend my arm as we leave the bathroom.

"Enjoying the freedom, I see," the doctor comments. He picks up my cast. "Would you like to keep this?"

"I've grown a little attached to it, but no," I tell him. He nods and leaves the room carrying the saw and my cast.

"The man that's talking with your friend right now told me to tell you that you're going to be discharged tomorrow morning," Nancy informs me. Well . . . that's perfect.

"When will my friend be discharged?" I ask.

"Sometime next week." With that said, Nancy leaves the room and I lie back down on the bed. This is great. This is just fucking great. A whole week alone in that hell hole without Collins to help me out. There's still so much I need to know in order to survive without him for the remainder of my sentence. But at least he'll be safe. He'll be with my friends and he'll be safe. I know they'll care for him.

I let myself drift off as I think of how happy Collins will be when I tell him he gets to stay with them.

* * *

As I sit in the back of the police cruiser that's taking me back to prison, I watch all the scenery go by. I'm back in my _gorgeous _orange jumpsuit and I've been handcuffed. I can't keep my mind off Collins. He seemed distracted when the warden took me to say goodbye to him before leaving the hospital. I wonder if that had anything to do with whatever the two of them talked about last night. At least he won't have to deal with him anymore. I really hope he adjusts well to living at the loft.

"You're awfully quiet back there, Davis," Warden Harris says. "Got something on your mind?"

"Just thinking about Collins," I reply.

"Of course you are."

"Since we're on the subject, what did you say to him last night?" Warden Harris is silent. "I'm not gonna stop asking until you tell me, you know." He sighs heavily.

"I had a . . . proposition for him," he tells me.

"What kind of proposition?"

"That's confidential."

"If you hurt him in any way-"

"Davis, believe me, I am _not _going to hurt him. Especially if he accepts my proposal."

"What _was _your proposal?"

"I told you. It's confidential." Those are the last words that are spoken for the rest of the ride.

When we arrive back at the prison, there are two guards waiting. Warden Harris opens the door I'm sitting next to and the guards take me out of the cruiser. They're gripping my arms tighter than necessary, but I don't say anything. I'm taken right to the concrete yard where I was first introduced to yard work and given a pick ax after my handcuffs are removed. The guards then leave me. I spend about four hours by myself in the hot sun breaking boulders into small rocks.

_What the hell is the point of this?_

The two guards soon return and lead me back into the building and take me to my cell. The cell remains open while I lie on my bunk for about an hour. When the alarm for visiting and recreation hours goes off, I get up and walk to the yard where the basketball court is. There are a few prisoners starting a game. I make my way over to the bleachers I sat on with Collins when he told me what had happened to him. Before I can sit down, two sets of hands grab me and I'm forced to walk toward the prison.

"Nice to see you made a full recovery, Houdini," I hear Fuse's voice say.

"He'll be right back in the hospital in no time," the other person says. I think it might be Dog, but I'm not quite sure.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask in fear.

"Bones heard you'd be coming back today and he wants to see you," Fuse answers.

"Why?"

"He didn't say." My heart sinks. Why does he want to see me? What is he gonna do to me? Am I gonna die? I don't wanna die in prison!

Fuse and the other person take me through a library and the cafeteria before we get to a weight room. There's loud rock music blaring. Every prisoner in this room is twice my size and could probably eat me. I scan them and my eyes land on Bones, who's bench pressing three times my weight. One of my arms is released and Dog (I was right about him being the other person) walks over to Bones and says something to him. He puts the bar back in place and stands up. He whispers something to Dog and then smirks at me. My heart sinks even lower. The music suddenly stops along with nearly all of the movement in the room.

"Everybody clear outta here," Bones says. No one moves. **"NOW!" **That's enough to get everyone to rush out of the room, leaving me alone with Bones. "Houdini." He walks toward me and I feel like running.

"Please, don't hurt me!" I cry, covering my face with my arms. "I _just _got out of the hospital! I know you hate me, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bones interrupts. "Who the hell said I was gonna hurt you?" I bring my arms back down to my sides and stare at him in disbelief.

"You mean, you're not gonna kill me and make another hair tie for yourself out of some of my bones?" Bones laughs loudly and slaps me on the back.

"No!"

"But I thought you hated me."

"I _do, _but that doesn't mean I wanna kill you."

"Well . . . what do want with me then?"

"Warden Harris."

"What about him?"

"I want you to help me take him out." My eyes widen and I back away from Bones. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm _not _gonna help you kill someone." Bones chuckles and walks toward me. I back away from him until I run into a wall.

"You don't have much of a choice, Houdini," he tells me. "Either the warden dies or _you _do."

"I-I thought you said you didn't want to kill me," I say. I _really _hope a guard comes in here soon.

"Just because I don't want to doesn't mean I won't." Bones grabs my shirt collar and looks me in the eyes. "So, what's your final answer?"

"C-Can I think about it for a while?" To my surprise, Bones sighs and releases my collar. He must _really_ need me for this. But why?

"Fine," he says. He walks back toward the bench press he was using when Fuse and Dog brought me in the room and takes the weights off of the bar. "I'll give until next week to think about it." He picks up the bar and turns to face me. "And if I don't like your answer . . ." He holds the bar in the middle and bends it until it breaks. I wince. "Am I clear, Houdini?" I nod slowly as Bones drops the bar and smirks at me. I then quickly leave the room.

I slow my pace when I get to the library. What the hell am I supposed to do now? I can't help Bones kill the warden. I'll never get out of prison if I do that. Wait . . . I won't get out of prison if Bones kills me either. I'm screwed no matter what I choose! As I walk through the library thinking about what to do, I notice Collins standing between two of the shelves scanning the books.

"Collins!" I exclaim, rushing to my friend. He puts his index finger to his lips.

"Shh, this is a library," he reminds me. I nod and lower my voice.

"Right. What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to stay in the hospital until next week."

"Everything regarding my release will be finalized next week and I know I won't be able to enjoy my freedom if I leave you without saying goodbye. So, I asked Alan to let me come back here." I give him a look of confusion. "That's Warden Harris' first name."

"Since when do you call him 'Alan?'"

"Since last night." He smiles a bit.

"Collins, what did he say to you? He said he had a proposition for you, but he won't tell me what it is. He keeps saying it's confidential."

"And it is." My eyes widen and Collins chuckles.

"Come on! You're my friend! You have to tell me!"

"Library."

"Sorry, but I _really _wanna know. Tell me, please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"It's confidential." I scowl at Collins. "Looking at me like that isn't gonna make me tell you."

"Collins, I hate being out of loops," I tell him. "I won't tell _anyone. _Come on, you can trust me."

"Fine." Collins steps closer to me. "He apologized for everything he's put me through and then he asked me if I . . . needed a place to stay." I don't buy that. I don't buy that at all. Well . . . I buy 70 percent of it.

"That's it?" I ask.

"Yeah," Collins replies.

"Are you sure you're not omitting information?"

"I prefer to call it 'summarizing.'"

"So, you have a place to stay?"

"Staying with him is gonna be really awkward for a while, but it's either that or I'll have to live on the streets. It's my only option."

"Not necessarily."

"What?"

"There's an extra room in the loft I share with my friends. I called Mark last night and told him to get everybody to clear it out. You can stay there. And, hey, once I get out of here, we'd be roommates." Collins stares at me with his mouth half open. "What do you say?"

"Roger . . . are you serious?" Collins asks. "I could really stay with your friends?"

"Yeah. Are you accepting the offer?" Collins says nothing, wraps his arms around me, and presses his lips to mine.

**Yep, I'm gonna stop this chapter right there.**

**Review please.**


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